Uncharted
by wAcKaMoLe911
Summary: A small drabble of Bellamy and Clarke. Takes place after 1x13 and Clarke is not in Mount Weather. May continue with additional (possibly un-related one-shots).
1. Chapter 1: Uncharted

**Hi there! This is my first venture into writing for this fandom, so let me know what you think! Takes place after 1x13 _obviously_ because how could anything not after that finale? Just a small drabble of sorts...**

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"Bellamy!" Clarke ran as fast as her legs could carry her and careened straight into him, her arms going around his neck. Her force pushed them backward and his arms tightened around her waist to steady them.

"I thought you were dead," she cried into his neck, "I was so sure. I'm so sorry Bellamy. I'm so sorry."

A forbidden smile flashed across his face and he leaned into her embrace, if only for a second. "I thought you were gone too," he whispered, "I thought you all were." His voice wavered.

She pulled back abruptly and grasped his face with her hands, standing on her tiptoes to look him in the eyes, "You're really here. This isn't a dream," she said.

Her gaze was unnerving and he could only nod in agreement. In a flash her hand had slapped his face, leaving a bright red outline on his cheek.

He yelped in response and spit, tasting blood, "What the hell, Clarke?" he yelled, the guff leader persona seeping back into his voice.

Her hand was burning and her eyes stung with tears that even he could see. Her voice though was hard, "Don't you ever do that to me again, Bellamy Blake. Ever."

She turned from him and began pacing back the way she had come. Bellamy rubbed his cheek and followed her.

"Next time I tell you to run and get in the drop ship…get in the drop ship!" she ranted, hands flailing, "We're supposed to be the leaders _together_. We can't lead together if you're dead!"

"Clarke," Bellamy started. She wasn't listening though, stomping angrily between the trees.

"Get in the drop ship means," she began to say again. Bellamy sighed heavily and grabbed her elbow, stopping her tirade. She huffed out the breath she had been holding and glared at him.

"I know," he said, "Get in the drop ship." Her eyes softened a bit and he squeezed her elbow, "I'm sorry, Clarke. I'm sorry." She shifted her eyes to the ground, "Do you know what happened to Finn?" She said his name quietly, looking back up at Bellamy.

He held her gaze for a few seconds, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach. "I don't know," he finally said. "I hadn't even realized it was Finn who shot that Grounder. When I heard the door to the drop ship begin to close I ran into mine tunnels and kept running."

The knot tightened with guilt, "I didn't even think to look back."

Clarke moved away from him, taking in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Okay," was all she said.

Bellamy ran a shaky hand through his hair and sat down on a fallen log. His arms rested on his legs and his head sank forward, "What do we do now, Princess?"

She walked over and sat down next to him. Her hand reached out to grab his and she held on tightly, "I don't know. But can we figure it out later?" she said staring straight ahead.

He looked at her carefully, "Whenever you're ready."


	2. Chapter 2: Confrontation

**Hi! Just another Bellarke moment. Loosely follows after the first chapter...but this isn't a solidly constructed story anyway! Enjoy and let me know what you think! :)**

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"Clarke, would you please just listen to me?" Finn yelled hoarsely. He felt like he'd been screaming at her for hours.

Bellamy and Clarke had stumbled into the Grounder camp two days ago while running from toxic fog. Mine tunnels had spat them out into a central cave where all the Grounders were stationed to wait out the storm. All the Grounders and Finn.

Clarke had been furious. _"How long have you been there, while the rest of us were being _kidnapped_? Did you even think to look for us?"_

Bellamy decided to sit this argument out. He leaned against a tree, arms crossed against his chest, and his eyes flicking back and forth between the two. It was all getting a little old, honestly. Every few seconds his gaze would start to scan the trees, a small hope of seeing his sister fluttering in his stomach. A new protest from Finn would pull his attention back to the "conversation".

"Clarke, of course I wanted to find you," Finn began. She had stopped yelling long enough to listen to more than three words at a time. "I told you I loved you," Finn all but whispered, "I was sick with worry."

Clarke glanced back at Bellamy, her cheeks flaming. His eyebrows rose in response, and he struggled to hold back an eye roll…now this was an interesting turn of events.

Finn reached out for Clarke's hand, "Please," he murmured. Clarke yanked her hand back, "And I told you: you broke my heart, Finn. And I will _not_ let my judgment be clouded by you again. Go back to your Grounders. Bellamy and I will find the others on our own."

Clarke bent down to pick up her pack, swinging it over her shoulders hastily. "Bellamy, let's move." She commanded. Bellamy, anxious to leave, nodded and secured his own pack.

"Clarke, I know you don't mean that. Let me help! I've learned so much more about the land from the tribe…" Now Bellamy did roll his eyes at the word "tribe". _Of course_ Finn would stop calling them Grounders. He practically was one now. He opened his mouth, ready to tell Finn to go float himself, but Clarke was one step ahead of him.

"Ha! Your help is the last thing I need. For all we know, you'll lead us straight back to Grounders' camp. Did they let you go so you could try to win me back and bring back a healer for their savage camp?"

Bellamy grunted in agreement and Finn shot him a hard look. "I would never use that against you. Stop trying to forget what we had Clarke. You felt something that night we were together. I know it, you know it…you can't deny it." His voice had lost its soothing lilt and had quickly changed to anger.

Clarke glared, "It was just a kiss, Finn. _Just sex_," Bellamy shifted uncomfortably behind them. "It meant nothing. Maybe not at first," she allowed, "but it sure as hell does now."

Finn scoffed, annoyed, "Please, _Princess_. I don't see anyone else you'd kiss like that."

Clarke's eyes widened in mock surprise and threw her pack to the ground, definitely. Turning around she grabbed Bellamy's shoulders, and not allowing herself to look him in the eye, she reached up and kissed him hard on the mouth. A half second later his eyes slid shut and his mind went blank. He moved his hands to her waist, deepening the kiss. Her hands held onto his neck, pulling him closer.

Clarke's brain caught up with her actions and she broke the kiss abruptly. Breathing heavily, she looked up and saw what she imagined was the same wild expression in Bellamy's eyes. She spun around quickly, wiping her arm across her mouth and pulling down her shirt where Bellamy's hands had pushed it up.

She stared straight into Finn's eyes, "Now we can go, Bellamy." She began walking in the direction of Mount Weather, not looking back to see if either boy was following her.

Bellamy straightened up and walked back towards Finn, whose mouth was still slightly open from what had just happened. Bellamy grabbed Clarke's pack from the ground. Reaching into the side pocket he pulled out a small compass and shoved it into Finn's chest, Finn's hands scrambling to catch it. "Don't get lost on your way back to your _tribe_." Bellamy smirked before heading off towards Clarke.


	3. Chapter 3: Firelight

**Another addition! Hope you enjoy and please let me know your thoughts on it :)**

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Bellamy leaned down, spinning two sticks together and blowing, trying desperately to start a fire. Cold winds roared down from the trees, thwarting his attempts.

"Dammit," he growled.

Clarke glanced back into the clearing, holding onto some branches to be used for firewood. She walked over, dropping the wood beside Bellamy. He jumped a little at the sound before looking up to see Clarke standing beside him. He scowled at her and went back to the fire.

Clarke knelt down, "Here, let me try," she insisted, moving her hands to take the sticks from him.

"What makes you think you can get it started in all this wind?"

"Well, we both know you can't," she retorted. Bellamy rolled his eyes and leaned back, watching her hunch over the fire, trying to shield the sticks from the wind.

Her blonde hair blew around her face in the wind and Bellamy found himself fixated with watching the strands of hair. He shook his head forcefully as he heard her groan in frustration.

He smirked at her as she pulled herself back and sat beside him, "Now we know that we _both_ can't." He said.

Ignoring him, she looked around, searching for inspiration, "There has to be a way to get the fire started before the wind blows it out."

Bellamy shivered as the wind blew again, rubbing his arms up and down, "It's not like we're inside to start the fire."

Clarke grabbed his arm and squeezed, "That's it, Bellamy!" She rushed over to their packs and pulled out the sleeping bags that they had taken from the hidden bunkers weeks earlier. Unzipping them, she attached the bottoms of each sleeping bag and pulled the zippers up, making one larger sleeping bag.

"Come here," she instructed Bellamy. Begrudgingly, he got to his feet and walked over to her.

"If we both lean down by the fire and you hold the sleeping bag around us, it'll be like a makeshift tent. Hopefully it will shield the wind long enough for the fire to grow." She pushed the sleeping bag toward Bellamy and made her way back over to the fire pit.

"Why don't you hold the sleeping bag and I'll start the fire? I wouldn't want you to get burned, Princess," He taunted. It was Clarke's turn to roll her eyes, "Because you're bigger than me—you can hold the sleeping bag out further than I could to give more room for the fire. And so neither one of us gets burned," She added irritably.

Bellamy sighed and crouched down by the fire pit again. He pulled the sleeping bag over their heads. Clarke looked up at him, "Spread your arms out as far as they'll go. The more room, the better." Bellamy gave her a long look before stretching out his arms.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered. She looked up, a small smile on her lips. Bellamy tottered under the weight of the sleeping bag, and he had to move to keep his balance.

"Ridiculous, but warm," she reasoned. She got to work on the fire again. As she leaned down below him, Bellamy found himself again transfixed with her yellow hair. Even in the dim light, it still seemed to glow, still seemed _bright_.

"Dammit," he murmured angrily. "What?" Clarke asked.

"Nothing," Bellamy grunted, choosing to stare straight ahead now.

After a few moments of silence, Bellamy's arms began to ache. He was about to collapse the tent on them when Clarke cleared her throat, "Listen, Bellamy. I've been meaning to talk to you about the other day…with Finn…" she trailed off, focused on her work.

A sarcastic response played in his mind, but Bellamy bit his tongue: he knew Clarke well enough by now to know that teasing her was not always the best decision. He swallowed the words down.

"I…just, I'm sorry," she stuttered.

Bellamy was careful not to move a muscle as he saw a thin trail of smoke begin to form from Clarke's hands.

"Look, Princess, you don't owe me an explanation," he began.

Clarke leaned in closer to the fire and blew softly. The smoke spun upwards and tiny sparks of red and orange shown from beneath the branches. A strong gust of wind fluttered the sleeping bag and they held their breath as the flames sputtered, but stayed alive.

Clarke sat up straighter, turning her face to look up at Bellamy, "I just didn't want you to think that there was some…other motive for what I did."

More flames sprung up in the fire pit, small, but growing. The light bounced off Clarke's hair and Bellamy's body moved forward on its own accord. His arms moved down, pulling the sleeping bag in and enclosing them around the fire, "What kind of motive?"

Clarke felt her face heat up. Clenching her jaw she looked him straight in the eyes, "It won't happen again."

A long moment stretched between them. Bellamy's eyes darted to her lips and he shifted ever so closer to her. Clarke began counting the freckles on his face, trying to keep her mind occupied with anything _but_ the way he had looked at her mouth.

He was too close now, "What if it did?" he asked, his voice low. They were just a few inches apart now. The fire was slowly growing, heating up the inside of the sleeping bag tent.

Clarke saw him look down at her mouth again and she knew he was going to kiss her. Bellamy's eyes were almost shut as he moved to close the space between them—

"Bellamy?!" came a scared voice from outside their tent. Bellamy jerked back from Clarke, grabbing her arms to steady them, "Octavia?"


	4. Chapter 4: Unexpected

**Enjoy and let me know what your thoughts are! Thanks!**

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Clarke's cheeks burned as Bellamy threw the sleeping bag over their heads. Standing up, he pulled Clarke up with him in one fluid motion, gripping her hand tightly.

"Octavia?" he breathed, squeezing Clarke's hand tighter.

Octavia nodded with a watery smile. She stretched out her arms and Bellamy broke, running forward and catching her.

"I never thought I'd see you again," he said, tears welling in his eyes.

"I'm here big brother," she mumbled into his chest. Bellamy jerked forward, holding her at arms' length.

"Are you hurt?" he asked sternly, his eyes searching her body for hidden wounds and injuries.

Octavia closed her eyes and grimaced, moving her hand away from her side. Turning her hand, Bellamy gasped when he saw it covered in blood. Octavia gingerly lifted up the hem of her shirt revealing a deep gash.

"Grounders," she whispered, "Lincoln didn't make it," she choked back more tears.

Bellamy turned, "Clarke." His eyes pleaded with her and she had never seen that look in his eyes. Behind him, Octavia began to sway on her feet. Clarke called out, rushing to her. Bellamy caught her in his arms, lowering them both to the ground. He rested her head in his arms as she struggled to stay awake.

"Octavia! Octavia!" his voice was gruff but the tears still fell. Clarke got the sleeping bag and her pack. There was next to nothing in there that would help Octavia.

Octavia's eyes fluttered, "Until we meet again, big brother."

Bellamy shook her, "No. _No_. Clarke is going to make you better, Octavia. Do you hear me? _Fight this_." She nodded but her face had lost all its color.

"You can help her, right?" his eyes locked with Clarke's. Clarke lifted Octavia's shirt and traced the outside of the gash, running her fingers along the purple lines that stretched across Octavia's stomach.

"She's lost a lot of blood, Bellamy. And these lines? It means the wound is infected and that infection is traveling through her body." She managed to maintain her formal, doctor candor, but refused to look at Bellamy.

Bellamy reached for her arm, forcing her head up, "But you can fix her? Make her better?"

"I don't know," She relented, feeling her own eyes begin to water.

He shook his head violently from side to side, "You have to Clarke. You're the only one who can. You _have _to." His eyes begged her again and Clarke's heart turned in her chest.

"Bellamy," she began, grabbing his hand, "I can't."

He stared at her, disbelieving. A terrible moment passed between them.

"The infection is too far gone. The most we can do is make her comfortable…" she trailed off.

Bellamy's jar clenched, "There has to be _something_ you can do, Clarke. Please."

"No," Octavia's eyes fluttered and Bellamy's attention was instantly on her, "You heard her…I'm done," she shifted in his arms, "I don't need anything, Bellamy. I just needed you," she smiled weakly, "I knew I would find you."

Bellamy rested his forehead on Octavia's, "Please don't do this, Octavia."

Octavia moved her arm, reaching for Clarke, "Clarke."

Clarke bit her lip, trying to hold in her tears, "I'm here Octavia."

Octavia's breath was shallow and it was hard to speak, "Make sure he doesn't get himself killed."

Clarke laughed lowly between her tears, "I will." She promised.

She looked at Bellamy, devotion in her eyes and she began to fade even further away, "Thank you, big brother."

He brushed the hair from her forehead, "I love you, Octavia."

She smiled closing her eyes, finally, "Until we meet again." She took in a deep, shuddering breath. And then she was gone.

"Until we meet again," Bellamy said, pulling her body closer. The sobs ricocheted out of him and he rocked her body in his arms. Clarke wrapped her arms around her knees, crying and crying.

They stayed like that for hours; long after Octavia's body had gone cold. Eventually there was silence from them both. Bellamy stood up carefully, placing Octavia's body on the sleeping bag. Unzipping Clarke's pack he pulled out the small trowel. He started for the trees.

Clarke stood up quickly, "Bellamy," she choked out, sniffling. Her stomach lurched when he turned to face her: his eyes were red and blotchy and his whole face was swollen with the heartache and sadness.

She reached forward for the trowel, "Let me."

"No," was all he said. He stalked back into the forest.

The chill of night came and Clarke pressed herself to the tree farthest away from Octavia. She wanted to be as far away as she could.

She began to hear strangled screams and cries from the woods. She jumped each time, the sounds lurching through the trees.

A few hours later, Bellamy returned. He dropped the trowel at Clarke's feet and slowly picked Octavia's body up. She didn't follow him. Didn't think she should.

He returned eventually. Although not all of him, she decided later. He met her at the tree she was sitting against. Clarke took his hand gently, and pulled him down. He landed on his knees, the cries forming in his chest again. He breathed deeply and sporadically. She placed her other hand on his cheek and he let out a sob in response.

He collapsed into her and she held on to him tightly, wrapping her arms around his chest. She felt herself begin to cry again, tears seeping onto his shirt. In the early morning hours they fell asleep, still attached to each other.


End file.
